


Save the Day

by mitch_mueller



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Ben Parker Lives, Deadpool being Deadpool, Graphic Description, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker isn't Spider-Man, mild stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-10-24 12:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17704433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitch_mueller/pseuds/mitch_mueller
Summary: All those years ago, Peter Parker was on a one way course off the rails. Ben Parker brings him back to himself just in time, and he learns to control his powers privately, unwilling to put himself in danger and his Aunt and Uncle through hell. Peter grows up living a quiet life, getting through school and starting college with no excitement to speak of.One fateful day, a new face turns up at the coffee shop he works at part time. Peter's life becomes a lot more exciting from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey gang! first spideypool fic here, and ive only written the first chapter so far lmao. im hoping to upload once a week and im giving myself these deadlines so i Actually Keep writing lol  
> please let me know what you think and pressure me into keeping this up!  
> tags and rating will change as it goes on!

Steam poured out of the machine with a sharp, animalistic hiss. Peter snatched his hand back as the steam wand bit him. He swore under his breath as the burn bloomed on his fingers, but he quickly went back to his task of making an extra hot, no foam, decaf latte for the waiting soccer mom who was tapping her fingers impatiently on the bar. Peter plopped her drink in front of her just as she checked her watch and tutted, as if waiting two minutes for a coffee was unreasonable for her. Peter plastered on his fakest smile and wished her a good day as she tossed her hair at him in disdain.

His smile dropped when she turned, and he barely refrained from rolling his eyes when she scoffed and barged past the large man who was entering the coffee shop. Despite his size, the man let the woman shove past her, and he hunched further into his dark hoodie and cap, as if trying to diminish his own presence. Peter frowned at the display, and decided that the soccer mom was officially his most hated customer. He shook his head and turned back to the register, ready to greet the man as he drew near.

“Good afternoon, what can I get you today?” Peter greeted brightly. The man approached warily, keeping his head down to hide his face in shadow with his cap.

“A cinnamon mocha please,” his deep voice rumbled. He lifted his head slightly to smile at Peter, whos breath caught at the sight of the nervous smile, eyes widening as he also took in the scarred appearance. Peter blinked to try and mask his brief shock, and he returned the man’s smile tenfold, positively beaming at him to try and put this man at ease when he was so obviously out of his comfort zone.

“What name?” Peter said, slightly breathless at the smile this man shot back at him, so charming and full of unspoken promise.

“Wade, but you can call me whatever you damn well please, cutie.” Wade’s smile had gone from ten to a hundred in a split second, suddenly radiating confidence as he leaned on the counter. “Sure I ain’t seen you in another life? I swear I’ve seen that booty with spandex painted on it before.” He not-so-subtly angled his body round to ogle Peter from every angle possible. Peter blushed and squirmed over Wade’s scrutiny.

“Sorry sir, but I think I’d remember eyes as stunning as yours,” he replied, feeling braver than he had in a long time. Wade looked surprised for a split second before he smirked.

“Maybe we should reserve ‘sir’ for a more private location, sweetcheeks.” He produced a bulging wallet from his jeans. “How much do I owe you?”

Peter cleared his throat, trying to appear less affected than he felt. “It’s on me today,” Peter’s voice cracked as he said it, betraying his attempt at being smooth. His blush deepened, lighting his features on fire. He coughed and turned, grabbing a cup and scrawling Wade’s name before rushing over to the coffee machine. His neck prickled with warmth, and he turned just in time to see Wade’s eyes dart away from him. Peter raised an eyebrow when Wade tried to whistle nonchalantly, and rolled his eyes as he turned back to the machine. The tiny hairs on his neck fluttered again, and he preened now that he knew why. He cocked his hip just slightly and relished in the near silent hitch of breath his enhanced hearing picked up from Wade.

The coffee didn’t take long to make, and Peter presented it with his usual lack of flourish. He glanced at the till, checking that there was no one waiting in line, pleased that nobody wanted his attention besides Wade right now. Wade had a tentative smile on his face, as if he didn’t expect to hold Peter’s attention much longer. He took a sip of the coffee before him, not even flinching at the temperature and moaning quietly at the taste.

“Hot damn, someone knows really knows his stuff! With these skills you’ve got a permanent regular in me,” he paused, and his eyes flickered up and down Peter’s frame. They stilled on the name tag attached to his apron. “Peter… That’s a nice name, it suits you.”

Peter flushed slightly and grinned. “I always thought it was kinda boring…” he trailed off, eyebrows raising at Wade's shocked expression. “What?”

“Boring?! Sweetheart, I could never insult you in such a way,” Wade's voice dipped slightly, giving the pet name a sultry touch. Peter laughed, feeling slightly breathless. He'd never experienced anything close to the man standing in front of him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want more.

“You sure are a sweet talker. You flirt with every barista that can make a decent coffee?” Peter's stomach churned slightly with nerves, unused to being so forward.

“Oh honey, no! You're special, knew it the second I caught your glare at mommy bitch's back.”

Peter ducked his head at that. “I didn't think you saw that…” His eyes flickered up and he fixed a heated look at Wade through his eyelashes. “Sure am glad you did though.”

Wade looked as if he'd just had the breath punched out of him, mouth hanging slightly open and transfixed with Peter. His watched beeped - Hello Kitty, why wasn't Peter surprised? - and Wade swore, glancing down at it. He rummaged around in his back pocket and produced a small card.

“I don't do this often, because of the whole face deal, but please call me baby boy. Pretty please?” He held the card between two fingers in front of Peter, who nodded and took it.

“I will, Wade.” Saying his name felt special, and Wade must have felt the same way. His lips quirked and his eyes shone with a quiet hope.

“Good.” He gave a small wave and left, coffee held safely in one large hand, not looking back.

Peter looked down at the card and muffled his giggles into his free hand.

“ _ Wade Wilson, Professional Trouble Maker _ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wade takes care of some business
> 
> warnings for graphic violence, implied abuse and mild stalking

A deep, animalistic howl broke the relative silence. Knelt in front of Deadpool was a pathetic looking man, now missing two of his ten fingers. Blood poured sluggishly from the open wounds on the man's hands, and he curled around himself as he sobbed.

“Still got nothing to say for yourself?” Deadpool's voice cut off the pained man, silencing him with the anger in his tone.

“I swear I-”

“Didn't do anything?” Deadpool interrupted. “Don't know why I'm here? I thought you were a smarter man than that. Though I could hardly call pond scum like yourself a man.” He punched the man, making him to fall backwards, then stepped forward and rest his foot on his crotch.

“Admit it before you make this worse for yourself.” The man whimpered as Deadpool steadily increased the pressure with his foot. He smirked under his mask when the man under him started to writhe in pain and desperation. Deadpool ground his foot and growled out, “admit it!”

He sobbed and cried out, “fine! I fucking did it! I hurt her I-”

Deadpool cut him off again, this time with a bullet to the brain. “Disgusting,” he spit out, kicking the twitching body for good measure. He checked his watch and tsked.

“Damn pervert made me late.” He twisted on his heel and skipped away, whistling. He wandered the streets of New York for a while, barely anyone taking a second glance at the get up. The meandering took him on a vague course towards the object of his thoughts, and he soon found himself across the street from the closed Starbucks that had been bustling earlier that day. Taking another glance at his watch, he distantly noted the time at around half nine at night. He tsked again, and almost turned to leave before movement caught his eye.

In the dark, behind the counter, stood Peter. He was cleaning the coffee machine meticulously, and Deadpool saw a flash of metal in his hand.

Not cleaning, fine tuning. Peter had a screwdriver and he was adjusting the porta filters on the heavy machine. He was incredibly focused on his work, so he surprised Deadpool by standing up suddenly, gazing out the window at where Deadpool was five seconds earlier. Deadpool squeaked and ducked behind a nearby trash can, praying that his massive bulk was obscured. Nothing happened, and when he peeped up over the top, Peter was once again focused on his work. He let out a quiet breath, and stayed crouched as he watched Peter work. Every now and then, Peter glanced up and looked around, scanning the street outside the cafe window. The motion intrigued Deadpool, either he was really paranoid or he knew he was being watched.

It wasn’t too long before Peter started packing away his tools, preparing to leave. Deadpool stood and slipped into a nearby alley, watching the cafe from the cover of darkness. Peter left through the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder as he locked up after himself. He turned and strode away, hitching his bag to sit comfortably on his back. Deadpool slowly trailed after him, sticking to the shadows and stopping often to try and blend into the night.

Peter walked for a few blocks, staying in the brightness of the street lights. As he followed, Deadpool kept a sharp eye on the surroundings. He already knew the area wasn’t exactly the safest in New York City, and he reassured himself that he wasn’t “ _ stalking _ ”, he was looking out for a potential victim! This is what heroes did right? They prevented crime! He was just a step ahead of the criminals this time!

_ Sure _ , Deadpool thought sarcastically,  _ Because I’m the most heroic guy around. _ He turned swiftly into an alley, taking cover against a wall and peeking around the corner. Peter walked on, oblivious to his 200lb follower. None of the other supers may have taken a liking to him, but with his particular brand of crazy, they all tended to avoid him. Leaving him to situations like this undisturbed. For once, Deadpool was thankful for being so unpopular in the super-powered circle.

He trailed after Peter to a subway station, happy enough with his relative safety for now. Deadpool huffed into the night and started heading for his own home. He still needed to wash the perv smell off of his suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took a little longer.... and its a little shorter...... im still getting used to having a project with goals, but i hope you like it and there'll be more hopefully soon! also wade will get called out for acting scummy <3  
> bye!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh hi again lol
> 
> sorry its been a good long while, but life happened and also im a living garbage can. i hope that this can make it up to you though, it sure has been a long time coming.
> 
> let me know what you think! i crave validation :-)

Trains rumbled past with deep roars, grounding Peter and shaking him out of his anxiety-driven thoughts. A single bead of sweat dripped from his hair into the collar of his shirt and he shuddered.  _ Gross _ .

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to ease the leftover tingles running up the back of his spine and making the short hairs on his neck stand on end.

Someone had definitely followed him after work. He glanced around, attempting to look casual and failing miserably. That someone was definitely not following him now. Another shaky breath fell past his lips. The person following had been professional, that was for sure. Peter hadn’t been able to get a single glimpse at whoever it was, which was very worrying. Why would a professional be stalking him? He’d stayed out of trouble since Uncle Ben snagged him from the brink back when he was fifteen. Seven years of keeping his head down should’ve been paying off! He was doing well at college, focusing on his studies and working towards his Masters degree on a scholarship, working a part time job that was easy to excel at…

What did he do wrong?!

Peter forced himself to take another deep breath. It wasn’t going to help anything if he obsessed over this. For all he knew, he was probably just a random target. He should count himself lucky that someone else hadn’t been targeted. At least he could defend himself if the situation got hairy.

His train pulled up and he stepped on, easily finding an empty seat due to the late hour. He relaxed into it, clutching his backpack to his chest. The tension drained out of him as he rode, feeling better now there was distance between him and the potential attacker.

Peter focused on the vibrations beneath his feet, letting the sensation drag him out of his thoughts. By the time the train reached his stop, the incident was almost completely pushed from his mind. He yawned his way home, motivated solely by the thought of curling up in his bed.

It was only when he got home and was sorting out his things that he remembered the man from that morning. Peter fiddled with the card Wade gave him, smiling gently at the memory of the large man. He felt a little awkward about calling Wade out of the blue, so he hoped a text would suffice.

Peter flopped onto his couch, which was probably older than he was, and pulled out his phone. He twiddled his thumbs and pondered his first message.

_ Start simple,  _ he thought. He typed out a quick “Hey, this is Peter with the cinnamon mocha.” He hit  _ send _ before he put too much unnecessary thought into it and flung his phone to the other side of the couch.  _ Out of sight, out of mind, right? _

Out of mind didn’t last too long, as his phone buzzed barely thirty seconds later. Peter not-so-calmly scrambled for his phone, digging his hand into the cushions it fell between. His phone buzzed three more times in quick succession before he could get a grasp of it properly.

**Wade: petey!**

**Wade: how cud i evr forget tht face 😍😍😍**

**Wade: i s2g u shine like an angle**

**Wade: i cud b ur angle or ur devil 😈**

Peter huffed out a laugh and settled into the worn cushions.

_ Peter: I think I’d prefer an angel _

_ Peter: But I’m not fussy :-) _

**Wade: omigosh! 😲**

**Wade: aint u just the most precious lil puddin**

**Wade: lucky ole me cos i sure as heck aint no angel sweetcheeks**

Peter’s stomach rumbled, and he moved to the kitchen to make a light dinner. He kept texting Wade as he boiled the kettle for instant ramen.

_ Peter: I’m sure you’re not that bad! _

**Wade: ahh the sweet naivety of youth 😭**

**Wade: stop b4 u make me tear up!!!**

Peter giggled through his noodles. They continued texting through his measly dinner, right up until he absolutely  _ had _ to get to bed. The incident from earlier in the day entirely forgotten, Peter drifted pleasantly into a dreamless sleep.

Unfortunately, pleasant wasn’t something that lasted for Peter Parker. His alarm blared at six on the dot, and he groaned into his pillow. Even a good night's sleep never felt like enough.

He rolled over, blinding waving his hand out to try and grab for his phone. Tapping his alarm off, he checked his notifications. One new email, an app alert and three new messages from Wade. Not bad.

Peter put off further investigation, deciding instead to get ready for the day first. He tumbled head first out of bed, landing heavily with a grunt. The shock of the fall woke Peter up enough to haul his body up and into the bathroom, where he freshened himself up. He brushed his teeth and washed his face in the sink, picked up a comb and attacked his hair before resigning himself to the lost cause that was his birds nest hairstyle.

Peter sighed at his reflection, prodded his cheeks and pulled at the bags under his eyes. He looked more tired than usual today, having stayed up later than usual to message Wade. Peter shrugged at himself and left the bathroom. He dug through his clothes, giving a couple of items a cursory whiff before throwing them into his laundry basket in the corner of the room. He settled on a simple black t-shirt and jeans, thankfully stain free, and he pulled a fresh binder, socks and boxers out of his small set of drawers. Peter dressed quickly and grabbed a hoodie, his phone and his backpack, stuffed his feet into his beat up sneakers and left his dingy apartment.

Checking his phone, Peter sighed in relief. It was 6:30am, and he wasn’t running late, for once. He leapt agilely down the staircase in his building, out the door and into the street. It was a short walk to the subway station nearby, and typical Parker Luck had him getting to the platform just as his train pulled away. He sighed and hung his head. At least it was only five minutes until the next one. While he waited he pulled out his phone, remembering his notifications at last.

**Wade: gd mornin peteypie!! 😍**

**Wade: hope u slept as well as i did**

**Wade: dreams nd all 2 match 😉**

Peter’s face turned bright red as he read the last one, and he took a quick glance around the platform. Nope, no one around to see him spontaneously combust. That at least was a relief. He took a deep breath and sighed it out slowly.

_ Peter: I slept well, thank you! _

_ Peter: I just missed the train to work, but thankfully there’s another one coming soon :-) _

His phone buzzed almost instantly after he his send.

**Wade: o no!!!**

**Wade: i can picture it now, poor lil petey stranded on the platform all alone 😭😭**

_ Peter: I’m not a damsel in distress! One missed train won’t make me late for my shift. _

_ Peter: At least, I hope it doesn’t ;-) _

The train pulled into the station then, and Peter put his phone back into his pocket. He stepped onto the train and snagged a seat next to an elderly woman. The trip wasn’t long, so Peter focused on his senses. He started by blocking out as much of the background noise from the train as he could, listening to his own breathing and then pushing his senses outward. Peter focused on a group of friends at the other end of the train car, listening to them talk about their weekend plans before changing focus again, listening to the heartbeat of the woman he was sat next to. He let the steady beat take him until his stop, where he let the sounds of the world flood back to him.

Peter left the station and started the short trek to work. It was still early, though there were already plenty of people out and about on the street. Peter walked among them, at ease until he felt the familiar prickling on the back of his neck.

He was being watched.

Again.

Hot flashes of fear and anxiety flooded Peter, and his grip on his backpack had the seams creaking under pressure. Sweat moistened his forehead, and he forced himself to walk naturally on. Without glancing around him, he cut suddenly into the next alleyway and booked it behind a dumpster. Peter squatted and held his breath as the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. Buzzing in the back of his skull warned him of the nearing proximity of whoever was following him. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he tensed, hyper aware of everything happening around him.

The presence in the alley stopped nearby. Peter listened closely to the rustle of clothing as whoever it was looked for him, counted the footsteps as they wandered ever closer.

Peter gathered his courage and prepared to strike. One step. Two steps. Three steps closer, and he struck. 

He pushed off his legs in one powerful motion, hitting the other hard, forcing them back against the far wall with a harsh grunt. Peter slammed his forearm against the broad chest in front of him with a low snarl. He looked up and stopped. Blinked, as if what he saw would disappear.

“ _ Wade?! _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh rite i forgot to mention......
> 
> trans peter parker :-)


End file.
